Chapter 21: Lessons of Power
The royal council chamber had never felt so quiet.
Elara stood just inside the tall doors, her hands folded in front of her. The crown rested on her head, glowing faintly as always. Long tables stretched across the room, carved with old symbols. High seats lined the walls. This was where laws were shaped and kingdoms decided.
King Araion stood beside her.
"Do not speak yet," he said softly. "Just watch."
Elara nodded.
The doors closed behind them, and the nobles turned. Some bowed. Others stared. A few whispered to one another.
Elara felt it immediately—the tension.
"These people," Araion said quietly as they walked forward, "do not fear swords. They fear change."
They took their seats at the center of the chamber. Araion sat on the high throne. Elara sat beside him—not below.
That alone caused a stir.
The council began.
One noble stood first. Lord Verin, tall and sharp-eyed.
"Your Majesty," he said, bowing. "Word spreads quickly. A rival queen attacked our castle. Yet no punishment has been declared."
Araion leaned back calmly. "She was defeated. She fled. That is punishment enough for now."
Lord Verin's eyes slid toward Elara. "And the crown bearer?"
Elara felt every gaze turn to her.
"She defended the kingdom," Araion said. "Bravely."
Another noble rose. Lady Maera, her voice smooth but cold. "With respect, Your Majesty, bravery does not grant wisdom. She is young. Untested."
Araion did not answer right away.
He glanced at Elara.
She froze—but remembered his words.
Watch.
Araion spoke. "Lady Maera, you worry about wisdom. Yet you question my judgment in front of this council."
Lady Maera stiffened. "I only seek what is best for the kingdom."
"So do I," Araion replied calmly. "Sit."
She did.
Elara exhaled quietly.
The meeting ended soon after. When the last noble left, the chamber felt lighter—but not safe.
Araion stood. "Come."
They walked through a side hall into a smaller room. Books lined the walls. Maps covered a long table.
"This," Araion said, "is where real power lives."
Elara looked around. "Not the throne?"
"No," he said. "The throne is only a symbol. Power is understanding people."
He gestured for her to sit.
"Court politics," he said, "is not about truth. It is about balance."
Elara frowned. "That sounds dishonest."
"It can be," he admitted. "But it does not have to be cruel."
He picked up a map. "Each noble rules land. Each land feeds the kingdom. If one is angered, the balance breaks."
"So they test you," Elara said slowly.
"Yes," Araion said. "And now, they test you too."
Elara's stomach tightened. "I don't know how to play their games."
Araion met her eyes. "Then do not play."
She blinked. "What?"
"Politics is not lying," he said. "It is choosing when to speak—and when silence is stronger."
He pointed toward the council chamber. "Did you see how I looked at you before speaking?"
"Yes," she said.
"That was trust," he replied. "And they saw it."
Elara swallowed. "I was afraid to speak."
"That was wise," he said. "Not every moment requires a voice."
He leaned closer. "When you speak, it must matter."
She nodded slowly.
Araion moved a small carved piece across the map. "Lord Verin seeks order. Lady Maera seeks control. Neither seeks your good."
"So what do I do?" Elara asked.
"You listen," he said. "You remember. And you never forget that fear makes people dangerous."
Elara looked down at the crown. "They fear what I might do."
"Yes," Araion said. "But fear can be turned into respect."
"How?" she asked.
"By consistency," he replied. "By mercy when deserved. And strength when needed."
He paused. "You defended yourself against a queen. You healed a village. You did not boast."
Elara looked up. "That matters?"
"It matters more than power," Araion said.
Silence fell between them—but it was comfortable.
"You didn't have to sit me beside you," Elara said quietly.
"I did," Araion replied. "Because you belong there."
Her chest tightened.
"Why are you teaching me this?" she asked. "Truly."
Araion was quiet for a moment.
"Because," he said slowly, "for centuries, I ruled alone. I trusted no one."
He met her gaze. "And now, I find myself wanting you to understand my world."
Elara's heart skipped.
"That is not a small thing for me," he added.
She smiled softly. "Thank you for trusting me."
He nodded. "You earned it."
Later, they walked the palace gardens. The sun dipped low. Light spilled across stone paths.
"This place," Araion said, "was built before my curse."
"You must have watched many people walk these paths," Elara said.
"Yes," he replied. "And watched them leave."
She stopped walking.
"That must hurt," she said simply.
Araion did not deny it.
"You don't have to pretend with me," Elara added. "I see it."
He looked at her then—not as king to subject—but as one soul to another.
"I am tired," he said quietly.
Her heart ached.
"You don't have to be strong all the time," she said. "Not with me."
The crown pulsed gently.
Araion exhaled slowly. "Perhaps… that is why fate brought you."
They continued walking.
"You will make mistakes," Araion said. "The court will try to turn you against me."
"They won't," Elara said.
"How can you be sure?" he asked.
She looked at him. "Because you are teaching me instead of controlling me."
Something shifted in his expression.
That night, as Elara returned to her room, she understood something new.
Power was not only magic.
It was patience.
Listening.
Trust.
And for the first time, she felt she was no longer just wearing a crown—
She was learning how to rule.